She leaned her head back, just for a second, against his shoulder. “I’m fine.”
Dinner was a crowded, noisy affair. They ate together on the floor, a faded plastic mat their table. Vikram’s phone buzzed with office emails. Rohan spilled a spoonful of dal on his worksheet. Amma picked a bone from the fish and placed it on the edge of her plate with aristocratic precision. And Meena, in the middle of it all, ate her meal in small, quick bites, serving everyone else first. savita bhabhi 110
Afternoon was a stolen oasis. While Amma napped, Meena turned on the small TV in her room. A rerun of a 90s Hindi movie played. She didn’t really watch it; she just liked the noise, the colors, the reminder of a life where problems were solved in three hours with a dance number. She scrolled through her phone—a cousin in Canada had posted a picture of a snowy driveway. So clean , she thought. So empty . Then she looked at her own courtyard, cluttered with Rohan’s cricket bat, a broken plastic water filter, and Amma’s potted tulsi plant. It was messy. It was full. She smiled and put the phone away. She leaned her head back, just for a